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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27905191">The Makings of a Heroine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee'>TeamGwenee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas calendar fic, F/M, Fluff, Humour, Jane Austen AU, Misunderstandings, regency au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:14:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,088</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27905191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Informed on such matters through a thorough study of novels, Miss Arya Stark is left most convinced that there is something peculiar about her new neighbour, Mr Lannister, and the sinister absence of his new wife.</p><p>Chapter 2: Another prospective heroine provides her own perspective on the lover's.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>238</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My contribution for the Jaime &amp; Brienne Christmas Calendar, Day 6. Hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think! :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>At the age of fifteen, Miss Arya Stark could be credited little with possessing all the accomplishments and virtues a young lady of birth and fortune should be distinguished with. Unlike her much vaunted elder sister, Sansa, Arya’s sewing was poor, piano indifferent, dancing moderately sufficient, and polite conversation lamentable. Her appearance, having near persevered through the most awkward of ages, had improved and showed promise of reaching a more than passing beauty by her maturity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps the one area in which Miss Arya truly excelled in the role of young lady, was that of a love of novels. Not all novels, true. The novels preferred by Sansa were met with scorn from her sister. She despised the insipid heroines for their tasteless personalities and constant fainting. It was through one Miss D. Targaryen’s works that Arya immersed herself into a perfectly horrid world of intrigue, murder and treachery most foul. Whereas Arya struggled to find herself in the heroines of her sister’s preferred works, lacking in grace, docility and flame red hair (a must for romantic leading ladies), Miss Targaryen’s young ladies were of spirit and independence. In them, Arya saw herself reflected from the page, a desire all wish to see fulfilled in some form or other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through the eyes of these most intrepid ladies, Miss Arya unravelled devilish mysteries, crossed swords with fiendish villains and uncovered glorious treasures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So devoted was Miss Arya to this world of conspiracy and double-dealing, that her sharp eyes and ears had developed a constant watch for intrigue, so that she could truly aspire to the heights of heroism where her most beloved heroines resided. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chance was to present itself on the occasion of the Lannisters’ arrival to town.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At fifteen, Arya was a touch too young to be fully launched onto society. But at intimate family parties and gathering of neighbours, her parents had decided her attendance was acceptable, much to the dismay of Miss Stark, who had never made a secret of the mortification she felt at her sister’s complete want for polish and propriety. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This most recent gathering was a small party of dinner and cards, perhaps some dancing. An assembly that the Starks were most accustomed to and would have been little distinguished if not for the presence of the Lannisters. Mr Stark had small desire to welcome the Lannisters into his home. He knew the elder Lannister brother only as a passing acquaintance, and the younger  by reputation, but he had some dealing with the father who kept his residence at the family estate. In all three gentlemen, Mr Stark found nought to recommend them, and he was loath to play host to the brothers. It was only at Mrs Stark’s insistence that he reluctantly agreed for the gentlemen to be admitted into his home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrs Stark knew the elder brother better than her husband. He had been a school acquaintance of her own brother, and had joined the Tully family at their estate at Riverrun in the summer before Miss Tully’s (as she had been known then) wedding. There had been a passing hope between the parents that young Jaime Lannister would find favour in the younger Tully girl, Lysa, but of all the Tullys present, it was Mrs Stark’s uncle that Mr Lannister found most interest. The retired soldier’s tales of heroic exploits were most engaging to the romantic young man. When merely a year back, Mr Lannister had been visiting up East, Mr Brynden Tully had always been staying with his old army friend. Mr Lannister had found it both prudent and pleasurable to call upon the gentleman at Mr Tarth’s estate on Tarth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evenfall Hall was a most pleasing estate, by all accounts, and Mr Tarth's only child, a daughter, was the heiress of not a little fortune, although not one to rival the bounty that Mr Lannister was to inherit on his father’s passing. Here at last, Mr Lannister found his desired wife. The circumstances of Mr Lannister’s marriage to Miss Brienne Tarth was to provide Arya with her most desired mystery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It should have been a match pleasing to all sides, and yet around the time of the marriage, Mr Lannister and his younger brother both were banished from Casterly Rock, and struck from the old man’s will. What is more, the young Mrs Lannister had been seen by no one. Inquiries as to the disgraced youth’s bride had been made by many concerned parties, but little information was yielded. Despite having one and twenty years and being the daughter of a gentleman, she ventured rarely into society, a state of affairs that had not changed since her marriage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a most peculiar arrangement, Arya mused to herself as she dressed in her second best yellow muslin, and endured to have daisies and ribbons tied into her hair. A young man, once of great fortune now disinherited and left penniless, but for the prospective fortune of his young wife. A wife that none had seen, and seemed to be quite hidden away from the world. The judgement of Arya’s own father; whom she considered as the absolute best of men, on both Lannister brothers, further painted the affair in a most sordid light. Mr Stark had a strong distrust of any man of great fashion and fancy; being a staid and sensible man himself and of the conviction that all other men should be also, and this air of distrust was passed onto his children. Of the elder Mr Lannister, he spoke with barely concealed disdain, and the younger whose reputation proceeded him, Mr Stark had informed his sons when he thought his daughter was not listening, was commonly known as ‘the imp’ in certain circles. Mrs Stark; whose judgement could otherwise have been trusted to be more balanced, remembered the hurt which her younger sister had felt on enduring Mr Lannister’s blatant disinterest, and as such did little to soften her husband’s dislike for all of the name Lannister, even if duty obliged her to put the brothers and the new Mrs Lannister onto the guest list for that evening’s entertainments. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The arrival of the Lannisters at the ‘soiree’ only further served to pique Arya’s interests. A little after the correct time, a lateness that just straggled fashion and rudeness, the door was opened and the last of the guests announced. There was Mr Jaime Lannister, tall and severe and in possession of such beauty that Sansa; who thought that no one over the age of twenty five could be considered in any way desirable, quite flushed. Following him was his younger brother, a dwarf whose dancing eyes and silver tongue placed him on equal stature with his adored elder brother. Yet the wife, the new Mrs Lannister, who of the party was most welcome due to being unknown, was missing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr Lannister made some excuses for his wife’s absence, apologising on her behalf while displaying blatant little remorse, and then settled into an evening of insulting everyone that was present in the swiftest and most irreproachable manner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrs Poole; aspiring to Mrs Stark’s level of elegance in her orange satin trimmed with double rows of lace and ribbons, he commended for her ability to speak plainly, without putting on any airs such as wit, vivacity or spirit. Mr Luwin, the kindly priest, he praised the reports of the man’s piety, expressing approbation for his ability to overcome all obstacles such as sense and logic to dedicate his life to the service of the Church. He presented Mr Snow his compliments for his most rightfully solemn and sober demeanour. Other young men would give way to the pleasures that an evening of cards, dinner and dancing would present, and allow themselves to be moved to gaiety. Instead, Mr Snow maintained his grave dignity in a manner that did him credit. Mr Lannister commended Mr Snow highly for his ability to withstand any inducement to merriness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he had not made the unfortunate choice to mock Arya’s dearly beloved cousin, Jon, she might have found some admiration for how Mr Lannister managed to cut all those around him so low, without truly saying anything that could be repeated against him. Indeed, if </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sansa</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been the chosen recipient for his jibes, Arya’s esteem for him would be high, regardless of her parents dislike of the man. Alas, Sansa was placed on the other end of the table, between Mr Jory Kartstark and Mr Harwin. And watching Jon’s cheeks grow pink with embarrassment, Arya’s loathing of the man was cemented.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She thought pityingly of poor Mrs Lannister, left to languish at home. Perhaps she was grateful to have an evening free from her most repugnant husband? Surely the prospect of a lifetime in wedlock to such a man could only be eased by the promise of a few evenings spared from his company. May-hap that was why she had begged the evening off? And yet was it truly preferable to wait idly in the drawing room, alone and counting the minutes until her husband’s return. Would an evening with new company, with many an opportunity to speak with those other her husband, be more diverting from her sorry state of affairs?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A kindle of excitement rose in Arya’s stomach. Truly, it was a most intriguing subject. With little and less thought for propriety than usual, Arya turned her head from her dining companion and cut through Mr Lannister’s ‘compliments’ of Mr Manderly’s waistcoat, (the padding to broaden one’s physique was most effective, and how fortunate it was that he came by it so naturally!) she addressed the man himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why is it that Mrs Lannister could not join us again?” she demanded, her grey eyes stern and unyielding. “I would have thought she would feel some interest as to her new neighbours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Arya,” Mrs Stark rebuked her youngest daughter under her breath, but neither daughter nor guest paid her any heed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately my wife’s health did not permit her to attend you this evening, and she was forced to forbear the pleasure of your company,” Mr Lannister said curtly. “As devastating a loss as it is to her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do hope that is not a common occurrence,” Arya said frankly. “We are all so curious to meet her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alas, my good-sisters ‘health’ most frequently keeps her from society,” Lannister the younger put in, arching an eyebrow towards his brother. “Although you would not think so considering her constitution. In some eyes, it is possible the good lady is </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> healthy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tyrion,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lannister cautioned curtly, his wicked green eyes glinting in the candlelight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Too healthy? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arya considered the words with wonder. A disgraced young man, cut off from his father’s considerable fortune. Newly wed to a young heiress rarely out in society and known to few. One whose health did not permit her from entering into society, and yet whose constitution had no weakness, and was described if anything as ‘too healthy?’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Arya’s gaze settled on the elder Mr Lannister, her initial dislike giving away to most ardent distrust. Her curiosity as to his wife had grown, fed and watered with a fear for the poor lady. Throughout the rest of the evening, Arya found she could coax little from either Mr Lannister, and as such she concluded that more knowledge was necessary. She resolved most determinedly to embark on an investigation and, if necessary, a rescue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Concern for Mrs Lannister convinced Arya to begin her investigations forthwith, a decision cemented by Mrs Poole and her odious daughter Jeyne calling upon the family the very next afternoon. Jeyne was Sansa’s most intimate friend, and between the two Arya was sure to endure an afternoon of constant sneering and criticism for her want of decorum. Arya begged leave from the visit and Mrs Stark, feeling that her daughter had been moderately well mannered enough the previous evening but from that one blunder, had been obliging enough to grant it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Arya made claim that she desired a walk in the woods, and after firmly rejecting her brothers’ and cousin’s offer of an escort, most decidedly made her way towards Maidenpool, the fine house in which the Lannister’s had taken up residence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a long walk, for there was a fair distance between both estates and the houses themselves had many large, sprawling grounds attached. But the weather was fine and Arya felt most intrepid in her red country cloak. Atop a hill on the border of the Lannister’s grounds, she caught sight of two gentlemen riding below. They both rode very well, and Arya, a keen horsewoman, took some time to admire their seat and daring. One man, she could make out from a distance, was Mr Lannister himself. The other she could not recognise, only that he was very bold a rider indeed. Arya heard a snatch of bright laughter carried on the wind. They were both riding away from the house, and Arya was most pleased at the development. Mr Lannister’s absence was likely to allow Arya better access to the mysterious Mrs Lannister. Congratulating herself on her timing, Arya boldly strode to the front door and requested entry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The powdered, blank faced footman led her to the front parlour, where she was greeted by a most bemused Tyrion Lannister. Arya noted with some disappointment the comfort of the rooms she had been shown. Everything was light and pleasant, speaking of taste and refinement, with not the overbearing grandeur or majesty that would better suit the location of a poisoning, and for a moment Arya was almost shaken in her certainty of the grisly designs on Mrs Lannister’s fortune. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Miss Stark,” Mr Tyrion Lannister said as he rose to greet her, laying aside the book in which he had been absorbed prior to her entry. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Arya took the proffered seat, a most comfortable couch by the window. “I came only to call, as neighbours do,” she said lightly. “I had hoped to make the acquaintance of Mrs Lannister, one lady to another.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The younger Mr Lannister barely withheld his chuckle. “Indeed?” he said, “One lady to another. Quite.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is common for ladies to call on each other, is it not?” Arya demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes,” Mr Lannister agreed. “Although I believe that it is the lady of the family who usually takes the first step in affairs such as this. Tell me, where is your mother? Are we to be blessed with the pleasure of her company anon?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Arya admitted, “I came myself.” Mr Lannister’s air confused her. He did not feign unnatural acceptance that a young girl should call unchaperoned, yet there was no defensive air about him. He seemed amused by her presence, treating her as a diversion, and his good humour would have recommended him well to her, if only Arya could not remember the words he had spoken evening last. For all his show of flippancy, he must have knowledge of his brother’s doings. Perhaps he was even a perpetrator himself. Nothing about him suggested agitation or compassion for his good-sister’s sorry fate, although that could have been a feint as easily as his good spirits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In truth, I am escaping the house,” Arya confided in Mr Lannister. She gambled that a display of confidence would allow the younger Lannister to feel less that Arya held him or his family in suspicion, and thus let down those walls of tranquillity. “My mother had guests this afternoon, the Pooles, and being as I am, the company of such fine ladies is always an abhorrence to me, as I am sure my company is an repugnance to </span>
  <em>
    <span>them. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It certainly is to my sister!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The walls seemed to fall, and something like pity sparkled in Mr Lannister’s mis-matched eyes. “I can well understand the desire to escape society, when one knows in advance that by nature you are an inherently unwelcome presence,” he said, with some feeling. “And we are not the only ones in this house who may feel so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Arya felt a conquest had been made, and thus moved the conversation along. “Tell me,” she pressed. “Am I likely to see Mrs Lannister today? I am most avidly curious to see her. I saw that Mr Lannister was out riding.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Indeed?” Mr Lannister’s lips curled in the most intriguing of smiles, speaking of secrets and hidden understanding. Arya tensed slightly in her seat, longing to know of the lady’s whereabouts. “And was my brother alone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Arya’s forehead crumpled in surprise at this most unexpected turn in the conversation. No doubt Mr Lannister the younger had suspected Arya’s intentions, and had changed the course. Arya decided to humour him a while, before trying to get the conversation back to rights.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” she confided. “He was with another gentleman. Although I recognised not who he was.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At that, the front door was heard opening, and the sound of voices carried from the hall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well my dear, you will discover soon enough,” Tyrion assured her, rising to his feet just as the parlour door swung open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In strode Mr Lannister the elder, red faced and dressed still in his riding suit, his eyes bright from the exertion of his ride, and lips twitching in wry amusement. Behind him followed another figure, dressed also for riding in a fine coat and breeches. A most tall personage, strong, with large hands and freckled face and bright blue eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Miss Arya Stark,” Mr Tyrion Lannister purred, as Arya remained seated in astonishment. “My beloved good-sister, Mrs Brienne Lannister. Miss Tarth, that was.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Miss Stark,” Mr Lannister bowed, “I was informed of your presence. Allow me to introduce my wife.” At that he beckoned his wife forward, and Arya was dimly astonished to see such a fine personage seemed so reluctant to step forward and reveal herself to someone of such little stature as Arya.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mrs Lannister,” Arya said, gathering herself at last. “Forgive me for the rude arrival. I was disappointed not to see you at dinner last night, and had hoped to make your acquaintance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrs Lannister’s cheeks turned red from something other than the flush of the ride. “Yes,” she said with the candour of an honest soul. “I admit I struggle in society, particularly in new company and large crowds, and stay away when possible. Although I admit that perhaps refusing your good mother’s kind invitation last night was unforgivable, though I pray you forgive me all the same.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The truth of Mrs Lannister’s absence was quickly understood. Mrs Lannister, being taller than all women and most men, including her own husband who could not be denied possessing a fine height, was conscious of her homely form and visage. Wherever she went, she would often find herself at the centre of mirth and mockery. Newly married to a man so fine as Mr Lannister, she was aware that her presence would be met with barely stifled surprise, even from the most civil of company. Possessing so little esteem for herself as it was, she chose to spare herself such torment. Particularly after Tywin Lannister found his favourite son’s unconventional choice so distasteful, as to strike him entirely from his will, despite Brienne’s respectable birth and fortune. Arya could understand all too well. Although </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>thought the new Mrs Lannister magnificent, she knew enough of local society to guess at the judgement with which Mrs Lannister would be met.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Arya herself felt a little guilt, for how swiftly she had judged the Lannisters and thus proved herself guilty of the evil which she condemned so strongly in her neighbours, but consoled herself that at the least, her prejudice had led her to believe the Lannisters guilty of murder and intrigue, which was a vastly more interesting and thus preferable judgement to have laid before them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The following hour was passed most pleasantly. Mrs Lannister was unburdened of her shyness by Arya’s cheerful nature and unrelenting admiration for Mrs Lannister’s singularity. They spoke animatedly of horses and riding, and then of swords and fencing, in which Mrs Lannister revealed herself to be a skilled fencer and Miss Stark procured a promise from the lady for future lessons. Seeing the friendship struck between the two, and the ease in which his cherished wife conducted herself in the young Miss Stark’s presence, Mr Lannister grew significantly more amiable. His wit was tempered with friendliness, and this, combined with his apparent adoration for his honest, good-hearted wife, raised him and his equally lively brother in Arya’s estimations. She saw very much the love Mr Lannister felt for his wife, and in turn understood the attraction Mrs Lannister felt for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Walking home in high spirits, cheered by an afternoon most pleasantly spent, Arya conceded that Mrs Lannister was in no immediate threat of poisoning, a disappointment tempered by the promise of fencing lessons. She had been privately looking forward to the bold rescue of the doomed young wife, and of joining her favourite heroines in the halls of glory. But, she was forced to accede, no rescue was needed of her forthwith.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Indeed, on her return home being greeted with scoldings from her mother and father when it transpired she had called on the Lannisters without their leave, followed by a further scolding from her mother when it was discovered Arya had returned with her petticoat six inches deep in mud, resulting in much mirth and scorn from Sansa and her friend Jeyne, Arya rather found herself wondering if it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>who was in need of rescue, and whether the Lannisters would be obliging. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Senseless Sensibility</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Another prospective heroine provides her own perspective on the lover's.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bonus chapter, because it's Christmas ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Great hopes were placed on young brides entering into a new neighbourhood, and Miss Stark cared little for those hopes to be dashed, for it was not an experience to which she was accustomed. </p><p> </p><p>The Lannisters had disappeared from the drawing room fifteen minutes ago. Mrs Lannister’s freckled face was quick to grow red and mottled, her flushed skin as ugly as everything else about her. While the younger Mr Lannister was amusing himself at the card table, Mr Lannister took his bride and ushered her out into the garden, no doubt with some great relief, for any husband would wish to spare himself the mortification of the neighbours seeing him in the presence of so very inadequate a wife. </p><p> </p><p>Sansa watched the couple go with a little pity, and small regret.</p><p> </p><p>Mrs Jaime Lannister was a most disappointing bride. She had arrived that evening in a handsome blue satin gown, with long sleeves that were the fashion from town. It was the only redeemable element of her appearance. Sansa’s mother had been kind to the awkward young woman, seating her near herself and Arya at the table, whereupon her sister threw all courtesy out of the window and ignored her dining partner in favour of discussing fencing and horses and all other manners of unladylike subjects. Mrs Lannister had warmed to the discussion and spoke clearer than she usually did in company, but on such a distasteful subject! Sansa could only imagine Mr Lannister’s dismay at hearing his wife speak so firmly on such things, even if he only threw his wife smiles that showed little rancour. It was to his credit that for all of his poor manners, he withheld from cutting his wife in public, for all the temptation there must have been. Certainly Sansa knew her own blushes at her sister’s indecorous behaviour, although she too hid them behind a veil, her own being that of tranquility and charm.<br/><br/></p><p>Miss Sansa Stark, celebrated elder daughter of the prosperos and ancient Stark family, toast of Wintertown and very accomplished young lady, had long known it to be her fate to be a heroine.</p><p>She was beautiful, a requisite for all heroines. Admittedly her beauty was rather too evident for Sansa to believe herself plain, but her hair was red, and this made up for the deficit of misdirected modesty. </p><p> </p><p>She could play, she could sing and dance and sew. Cover screens and net purses and press flowers. Her figure well formed, her air graceful and modest. </p><p> </p><p>It would have been better had Arya not been her sister, for to be the only Stark daughter would have been vastly preferable for a multitude of reasons. Heroines really should be only daughters, or else a younger sister. Arya’s lack of beauty would have cast her well as the dowdy elder sister, but alas, she came <em> after </em>Sansa, wild haired and long faced with an abundance of awkward elbows and knees. What was worse was that Arya; with her curious ways, was a cause of constant mortification for Sansa. Stubborn, reckless, plain spoken in a manner that bordered on rudeness. Arya’s many inadequacies were such that often Sansa found herself moved to aggravation in a most vexing and unattractive manner. </p><p> </p><p>A heroine could grieve and weep and faint, she could be gentle and modest, tender and loving or spirited and lively. But she ought never be snipish and sour. Any taunts should be lighthearted and witty, not the agitated and cutting words that her sister’s foibles often charmed from Sansa’s pretty bow mouth. </p><p> </p><p>Things would have been so much better had Mama and Papa had seen reason and heeded Sansa’s words, keeping Arya from society until she had shed some of her most distasteful qualities, and gained some polish. Sansa had too much sense to ever fear cause for jealousy for her sister. Of the two, Sansa was the far superior. But Arya need not be <em> so </em> hopeless. And in allowing Arya out into local society, her reputation was fixed, her manners even encouraged, for there were some who thought Arya’s wildness endearing. Those who showed proper horror at Arya’s lack of polish seemed only to drive Arya to further heights of indecorum. Even better than keeping her from society, to pack her off to school. Where manners would be forced upon her, and discipline untempered by affection. Then Sansa could know the true pleasure of being an only daughter. <em> The </em> Miss Stark as opposed to <em> a </em>Miss Stark. </p><p> </p><p>Their father laughed, their brothers partook, and even their wonderful mother, whom Sansa esteemed above all else, was more patient with her wayward younger daughter than Arya deserved. The most basic courtesies from her daughter was rewarded, and her wildness only moderately curtailed, for Catelyn could still remember those brief days before her mother had died and she was called upon to be lady of the house, and raise her own younger sister and brother. Once she had been the child who loved to roll down hills and make mud pies, and she had no wish to see her daughter’s youthful abandon taken from her so savagely as they had been from Catelyn. Arya would do her lessons, be tolerably civil and company, and then be let loose to run free and feral in the grounds, a true savage.</p><p> </p><p>In Sansa’s sunlit world, Arya was the single cloud in an endless blue sky. To be far from her was the baser of Sansa’s most cherished wishes. Among said wishes was to leave the charming but confined society in which she was raised. To taste the delights of town and sit as an equal in the country’s greatest houses. To sate her hunger for culture and to truly take her proper place in the world as a lady of quality.</p><p> </p><p>To achieve all this, Sansa saw clear, was to become that of most coveted beings, a bride. What was more desirous than to be a bride? To enter into a new society as a symbol of beauty and youth, beloved and prized by her husband. The status, the fashions, the introductions. Truly, Sansa felt her life in suspense until that day came. </p><p> </p><p>Sansa usually adored a new bride. When Mr Mallistest brought the pretty Mrs Mallister, Miss Wynafryd Manderly that was, Sansa had devoted herself to studying the pretty ways and fine clothes of the good lady. And again, when Mr Cassel and Mr Blackwood brought their charming wives into the neighbourhood.</p><p> </p><p><em> Mrs Lannister </em>should have been the jewel of society, for the Lannister name was an old one, and yet the match was shrouded in scandal, for the marriage had occurred around the same time that the proud and prickly Tywin Lannister had disinherited both his sons, including the bridegroom. That Mrs Lannister was of good family and brought her own wealth into the match should have been a cause for confusion, for why should the elder Mr Lannister oppose such a match?</p><p> </p><p>To meet Mrs Lannister was to understand.</p><p> </p><p>Homely, awkward in her blue Sundar pelisse, and limp hair tucked severely into a bonnet loomed a good feet more than most gentlemen, even clearing a few inches of her husband who could not be called a short man, to Sansa’s eyes there had never been a more unfortunate creature. Mr Lannister had been sharp and impatient, rolling his eyes as his wife offered up the customary courtesies to the elder Miss Stark, and Mrs Lannister herself had been reserved and taciturn, eager for the meeting to be over and for she and her disdainful husband to be away.</p><p> </p><p>Their meeting after Church had been brief, but enough for Sansa to draw her own conclusions on the match, which she instantly confided into her most bosom friend Jeyne Poole, to immediate approbation. </p><p> </p><p>Mr Jaime Lannister had erred in some way, and won his father’s displeasure. The girl’s exchanged lurid theories as to his misdemeanour. Some wicked and shocking, other noble and only to be disparaged by the most heartless and mercenary of fathers. Moved to vengeance, Mr Jaime Lannister had sought the most unsuitable, disgraceful bride, who could supply him with both fortune and the means to cut his father. Miss Brienne Tarth, the hideous heiress of Evenfall Hall, fulfilled these criteria to the letter.</p><p> </p><p>How he must have regretted the decision, Sansa often thought. Now that tempers had time to cool, and he had settled in a community full of charming, pretty girls with plentiful dowries (herself chief among them) the wife he had married in high dudgeon could only be a millstone around his neck.</p><p> </p><p>For all that his own flaws had led him to this sorry place, Sansa’s tender heart went out for him. She too knew what it was to be connected so irrevocably from a most unwanted character. Of course, Sansa herself was blameless in her relation to Arya in a way that Mr Lannister was not, but still Sansa recognised Mr Lannister as a kindred spirit, and grieved for his sorry state of affairs most heartfully.</p><p> </p><p>If only he had waited, Sansa mused to herself, waited and found a proper wife, whose grace and charm and moral character would divert him from the most unpromising road he had settled on, and even bring a reconciliation between father and son. Then <em> she </em>would be the future Mistress of the Rock, and wife to an undeniably beautiful man, for all that he was rather old. </p><p> </p><p>It was not too late, Sansa supposed. She would never think of Mr Lannister crying off his unfortunate wife and fleeing with another woman. Even if it were an act of most ardent love, such an act was abhorrent, unfeeling and immoral. And such romances were never rewarded, the lovers were always doomed to die alone and disgraced. He with a bullet through his heart from an impetuous duel, she in elegant poverty from a broken heart. </p><p> </p><p>But if Mrs Lannister was to die, from some convenient illnesses as Sansa’s studies of novels showed her was often the case, especially for one so very accursed as the former Miss Tarth, who Sansa could not imagine surviving so long in such a sorry existence, the lovers could find solace in each other’s arms. In caring for even the most unfortunate of wives, the man would show the development of his moral character, nursing her in her final days, and mourning her passing, inspired as he would be from the noble example set to him by his true love, whose patience and virtue would at last be rewarded when the two could finally be joined, their marriage blessed by God and society.</p><p> </p><p>Moved as Sansa was by this image, she cast a look out of the glass windows, through which the figures of Mr and Mrs Lannister could just be seen, half submerged in shadows.</p><p> </p><p>What did they have to say to each other in private? Sansa wondered. They had been gone a good twenty minutes. How much could any one man speak to a lady such as Mrs Lannister?</p><p> </p><p>Light-footed in her ivory satin slippers, Sansa rose decorously from her seat beside the coffee, and murmured soft excuses of a slight headache and need for air to her companions, before deftly slipping near the partially open doors, where snippets of conversation could be heard beneath the soft chatter and gentle chimes of the piano.</p><p> </p><p>“They will be dancing later,” Mr Lannister informed his wife, running his finger along her knuckles. “Would that you would dance with me, although I know my cruel wife would deign to join me in a set.”</p><p> </p><p>“There are plenty of ladies here who would be happy with you for a partner,” Mrs Lannister answered fairly. “Be content with dancing with them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would I desire to dance with any lady but yourself?” Mr Lannister demanded. “You would not wish to dance with another man.”</p><p> </p><p>“I do not wish to dance before any company,” she responded firmly. “But you certainly should, for there is a low supply of men. You should at least dance with the Miss Starks, as a sign of respect for our hosts. You will enjoy dancing with Arya, and you cannot dance with the younger and fail to dance with the elder.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mr Stark is counting on me to feed fire to the flames of his dislike and distaste for my character. If I were to do the mannerly thing and show his daughters every due attention, he would be mortally offended. As his guest, I will not vex him so cruelly, and thus I will act in every way that is improper and impolite, pleasing him mightily. For men such as Stark can never be pleased unless they are in disapproval of something,” Mr Lannister declared with spirit. </p><p> </p><p>“You do your duty as a guest most commendably,” Mrs Lannister told her husband, some of her new family’s wit having taken root in her head. “And with such ease and lack of effort, you cannot fail but to please. But in pleasing those who like to be displeased, you are outmatched. In every way I draw disapproval. In my figure, my face, my interests and my manners, I am perfect for those who wish to find flaws. After all, you have been your father’s son for many years, but it was only in wedding me that he struck you from the family. You as yet cannot be credited for seeing a man deprived of his family fortune.”</p><p> </p><p>It was here that Mr Lannister was to speak the words that truly struck Sansa to the core.</p><p> </p><p>“Hang my father’s money!” he declared, veritably the chant of the romantic hero, and he kissed his lady’s fingers with a bruising passion. “What need have I for gold, when such treasure is sat before me?”</p><p> </p><p>And truly, he looked upon his wife as though she was the very jewel of womanhood, a blessing from the heavens.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes, his kiss, his words, all shook Sansa greatly, and sent a chill down her back. She slipped back into the room, seeking the warm solace of the fire. But even as she sat by the flames, the discomfort and disquiet brought on by Mr Lannister’s words did not ease.</p><p> </p><p>That he could love so passionately, so fully as only a hero did, for a woman such as Mrs Lannister, was counter to Sansa’s very understanding of society, the world and human nature itself.</p><p> </p><p>Had she been unkind, unfeeling for drawing what had seemed fair and just conclusions? Sansa gave herself a pensive look in the mirror. For all that she looked a leading lady, Sansa began to wonder if she could not yet credit herself as a heroine. In her understanding there was still much wanting and in need of development. That at least, she would accept to herself. </p><p> </p>
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